


Iron Coin Chronicles: The Silent Summer

by Alkeni



Series: Iron Coin Chronicles [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkeni/pseuds/Alkeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School is over, and summer is here. The Coin, though, is proving alarmingly silent as summer rolls on, the next year on the Hellmouth drawing closer. But even if the coin is silent, Life in Sunnydale goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Coin Chronicles: The Silent Summer

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Joss and Company do. 

This is not the start of Iron Coin Chronicles Season 2, as the name makes clear. This is instead a bridging fic set between Seasons 1 and 2 of the ICC, to provide some view of the character development over the summer. Obviously, this can't and doesn't encompass all of the summer – it's merely a series of bit scenes set during the summer of 1999.

Thanks to Starway Man, my Beta.

Iron Coin Chronicles: The Silent Summer

By Alkeni

**June 4th, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

Xander came into the room from the kitchen, setting a plate with a sandwich on it near where Cordelia had taken over the dining room table – which _wasn't_ covered in junk, like it had been for years – and then he sat down in the chair next to hers, setting another plate in front of himself. 

“You know,” Xander said as Cordelia ignored the lunch he'd set next to her, focusing instead on the classes manual for UC Sunnydale, “I should probably be out looking for a job right now.”

Cordelia looked over at him, “Probably should.” She agreed, her tone advisory, no hint of accusation or obligation in it. “Why aren't you?”

Xander shrugged, “Well, I _do_ have the whole summer to find something I like doing. Besides, we just blew up the High School barely two weeks ago. Kind of enjoying the side benefits of not having to get up for school every day.” He smirked.

Despite herself, Cordelia smirked a little as well, “They _are_ kinda nice, I have to admit.” She agreed, before the Chase woman's expression became more serious. “But once I start college, I'm thinking we'll have to get back to that sort of schedule. Maybe not _quite_ as early as for High School...” She shrugged. 

“Thinking of taking some early morning classes?” Harris looked over at the page she was on – all the Psych classes, and one class, Psychology 105, was circled. Which he knew meant it was one she was at least considering taking.

_Huh. I think Willow mentioned she was taking Intro to Psych._ Xander shrugged mentally at that. UC Sunnydale wasn't exactly a huge campus, and odds were that come September, all five of his friends – Buffy, Cordelia, Willow, Oz and Amy - would share at least one or two classes with one another, especially intro classes that could fill any number of those Gen Ed requirements.

_Obviously, I've been listening to Cordy talk about this stuff way too much lately._

“Hopefully nothing before nine.” Cordelia told him, before looking back at the book. 

“Decided on a major yet?” Xander asked, after he took a bite out of – and swallowed – his sandwich.

Cordelia shrugged, “Nope, no idea. Maybe theater, but the state of California has a lot of those graduates as it is, and half of them are name-tag people. At least half.” She gestured towards the book, “I figure my best bet is to focus on basic general education requirements, and once I'm done with them, decide on my major then – like, what subject ends up being the most interesting. Or,” she clarified, “The least boring. We'll see.”

Cordelia put her pen down and looked over at the sandwich, satisfying herself that it was in fact made to her somewhat exacting specifications, and started to eat. After a few bites, she went back to the book, but then turned to Xander. “Where did you plan to start looking for gainful employment, anyway?” She asked, returning to the earlier point he'd raised.

Now it was Xander's turn to shrug. “I'm not sure. My plan was to start with the lookin' on Monday, see what's available.” He cracked a self-deprecating smirk, “How does Xander Harris, Pizza Delivery Man, sound?”

“Sounds like it'd be a pretty dangerous job, in this town.” Cordelia pointed out. “So, okay, on the plus side, I'm sure there's a guaranteed spot available for you somewhere. Domino's, Pizza Barn, whatever. But do you _really_ want to risk dealing with vampires that get the bright idea to order a pizza delivery guy for dinner?”

“Cordy, unless I get a job that only happens during the day in perfect sunlight conditions and doesn't involve me going inside, ever, there's a risk I'm going to run into vampires in this town whatever I do.” Xander pointed out, his tone conversational, just as hers had been. Facing down an army of vamps and then blowing up the High School had apparently made them rather blasé about discussions of the life-threatening nature. For the moment, anyway. “Well, whatever. I'll be keeping a stake, cross and vial of holy water on me all the time, no matter what.”

“Make sure you do.” Cordelia told him more seriously, looking at him now. “Because whatever you end up getting as a job, temporary or otherwise, if you die while you're doing it? I swear I'll find a way to bring you back from the dead, so I can kill you again for being so stupid to die the first time!”

Smiling, Xander reached over and took her hand, squeezing it a moment, “I'll keep that in mind, honey.” He told her firmly. “Of course, the same goes for you dying on campus.”

Cordelia squeezed his hand back, “I think we should just go with Buffy's First Rule of Slaying here.”

“Don't die? Yeah. Good rule to live by.” Xander agreed.

**June 6th, 1999  
1630 Revello Driver, Sunnydale**

Buffy looked over at the door upon hearing the sound of knocking. Looking at the window, she checked that the sun was in fact still high in the sky. In Sunnydale, it never hurt to check, even in the mid-afternoon.

Given that it was still sunny out, Buffy got up from the couch and walked over to the door, looking out the window to see that it was Cordelia. And no sign of Xander.

_Huh. Wonder why she's here?_ Cordelia wasn't her friend, though they got along pretty well these days, all things considered. Buffy still wasn't sure what Xander saw in her – apart from the majorly obvious – but they both seemed to make one another happy, and...

_Yeah. Not gonna finish that thought. Let's just say I'm not interested in screwing that up for anyone, and leave it at that._

Buffy firmly shoved all thoughts of Angel out of her mind and opened the door. “Cordy?” 

“Hey.” Cordelia said. “Can I come in?” Buffy thought for a moment, then shrugged, stepping aside in the standard non-verbal 'Sunnydale Invite'. Cordelia showed no sign she was bothered by it and stepped across the threshold without difficulty.

Once Cordelia was inside, Buffy looked at her, closing the door. “So- why are you here?” With someone else, Buffy might have beat around the bush a little, but Cordelia always seemed to prefer the straightforward approach – she certainly took it herself, every chance she got.

“I want you to help me get better at fighting.” Cordelia told her, looking her in the eye.

Whatever she'd been expecting, it hadn't been that. After a moment, Buffy asked the obvious question, “Uh, why? Are you – I mean, you've never been that interested in getting involved in the fight against the vamps and demons, if you can possibly help it...”

“Yeah, like, obviously. That's because I like staying alive.” Cordelia pointed out. “The original plan was that right about now, Xander and I would be leaving Sunnydale behind in our dust. But since it looks like that isn't gonna happen, for at least another four years...” By now, all the details of Cordelia's parents and new situation were known to Buffy. along with the rest of the Scoobies. “Well, bottom line, staying out of the fight and pretending I can always avoid it doesn't really seem possible anymore.” Cordelia looked away for a moment, and her expression changed from her usual hard, tactless exterior to...

Worry?

“Besides which, I know my boyferiend,” She said more softly, “Xander isn't going to just quit being involved in the Slayage, now that High School's over. Not as long as he's still living on the Hellmouth. And if he's going to stay involved and risk getting himself killed that way, then _I'm_ going to get involved as well. No other option.” 

Then Cordelia's voice and expression changed back, “And- I mean, you've only been in this town for like two and a half years. Tell me something, Buffy; exactly how many people you knew – people you saw every day in class, or at the Bronze, or whatever – are dead, now? I've been dealing with that since the day I learned all the monsters really do exist – I mean, kids I went to kindergarten with are dead now. Or worse.” She shook her head, “Maybe I'm late in really coming to face it, but all those deaths – I may not be a Slayer, and I may not be that enthused about fighting vampires or evil demons, but I'm not going to just do nothing anymore. I hate vampires, for what they've done to my life.”

Cordelia finished and looked at Buffy, eyebrow raised a moment, “So. Will you help me?”

Buffy looked at Cordelia, a little thrown by the miniature speech/rant. First by the obvious concern for Xander's life – and Cordelia's determination to be involved, for him, to do what she could to keep him alive.

And then...the Chosen One suddenly seemed to register the true hate in Cordelia's voice, the less than thinly veiled anger.

_I slay vampires. I don't – I don't hate them._ Maybe that was because it was more or less easy to kill them, at least for her....

_No, hang on. Because let's be honest here. There's one vampire on my shit list who truly qualifies – I_ hate _Spike._

As was usual by now, Buffy felt a moment of rage when thoughts of Spike came to mind – after all the times he'd gotten away, after all the evil crap he'd done, yet surviving every time...he was still among the unliving. Willy had assured her that Spike had beat it out of Sunnydale, and when she and Faith had beaten up a few other information sources, they'd all confirmed it.

_Still, I_ know _Spike, damn it. He's going to come back, sooner or later. That goddamn ego of his will demand he try for the 'hat trick' again._

Shaking her head a little, Buffy shoved that thought out of her head too. It was summer. The season of long days and short nights, when most of the vamps decided to tone it down (at least a little). Odds were she could avoid worrying about the big stuff, for now. Just the standard nightly slaying. That's all.

She knew Cordelia was more than athletic enough to handle martial arts training – Cheerleading wasn't a combat sport, but Buffy knew from personal experience just how hard it was to excel at that. She didn't need to worry about that aspect of it, then, if she agreed to train Cordelia.

_And why shouldn't I? I know Xander would want me to say yes, though something tells me he doesn't actually know about this._ Not that she thought Cordelia was deliberately hiding it from Xander. Just that he didn't know. _And – seriously, why not? It's not like I have a boyfriend to spend time on anymore. But still..._

“Before I say yes, I have a question.” Buffy said slowly, abruptly realizing something. 

“What is it?”

“Why me?” the blonde Chosen One asked. “I mean, no offense, but me Slayer; you normal human. My personal fighting style is something that no one apart from Faith can duplicate, 'cause y'know, it's part of the whole supernatural ass-kicker package. So why not go to Giles or Wesley for something like this?” 

The brunette snorted, “Oh, sure. Go to the Tweed Brigade for being taught how to fight and defend myself against the undead. Why didn't I think of that? Oh, gee, maybe because I _did_!” Cordelia scowled, “Apparently, Giles doesn't have time for something like this. He's too busy becoming a complete slacker! And Wesley? Still in the hospital after what happened to him during Graduation, duh!”

_Damn. And I bet there's a reason she didn't go to Faith about this, as well._ “All right, fine. I'll do it.” Buffy said after a moment. “We could get started now.” She offered.

“Right now?” Cordelia sounded disbelieving. “But I'm hardly dressed for-”

“Vampires don't attack you when you're dressed for a fight, Cordy.” Buffy interrupted. “Nothing too much today, I promise – nothing that'll ruin your clothes, I swear.” Despite herself. Buffy smiled a little as she said that. 

Cordelia seemed to debate it for a minute, then nodded. “Alright. Let's do this.”

**June 18th, 1999  
The Bronze, Sunnydale**

“See, I told you! Amy, you just needed to loosen up a bit.” Faith told her friend as they got off the nightclub's dance floor. 

From Faith's perspective, hanging with Amy at the Bronze was fun on its own. But she also liked dancing with her – even if she still had to do most of it out on the floor – because...

Well, if there was one sure way to attract guys' attention, it was to dance with another girl. Or just attract attention in general. Faith wasn't particular – she liked appreciative looks whoever they came from.

“I still don't think I'm doing that much better.” Amy pointed out after catching her breath.

“Actually,” Faith cracked a smile, “I was more talking about you not being wound so tight.” Amy couldn't help a small smile at the reference to a conversation almost four months past as Faith added, “I'm pretty sure being less stressed and shit is helping you with pretty much everything.”

“Guess I can't argue with that.” Amy nodded. And it was true. For weeks now, she'd barely spared a thought about...her mother's death, what the Mayor had blackmailed her into doing...not having to dwell on it, worry about it. She'd known it would be a huge weight off her shoulders, but until she'd woken up the next day and felt...

Well, it was hard to put into words just how much better she'd felt.

“Need another minute?” Faith asked.

“A couple.” Amy nodded, “I don't have your Slayer stamina, after all.” The two of them went over to one of the tables and sat down.

Leaning back in the chair, Faith looked over at her friend. “You looking forward to the college thing, then?” Faith, of course, would have to actually graduate high school first to even think about college. Or get her GED, or whatever. Not that the idea of higher education sounded all that appealing to her. Amy, on the other hand – well, the girl had prospects, after all. She was smart and most importantly, she wasn't a member of the Chosen crowd.

Sure, right from the start, Faith had liked being a Slayer – liked the power it gave her, and she definitely like being able to take names and kick ass. Faith held no illusions that she'd live a long life and eventually die in her bed, surrounded by her kids and grandchildren. As she'd pointed out when Buffy had looked at her askance for smoking: 'It's not as if I'm gonna live long enough to die from these.'

_Plus, I'm pretty sure Slayer healing means they're not being as much of a problem for me as they otherwise would._ Faith cracked a smile at that thought.

But anyway, getting back to the topic at hand – Amy and college together made a hell of a lot of sense. 

Amy shrugged, “I dunno. Now that I think about it, it's, well, it's just kinda gonna be the next thing. I mean, between – well, magic and all the other stuff on the Hellmouth, school doesn't really seem that important anymore.”

Faith laughed, “Don't let Red hear you say that. The way she was going on about it the other day, you'd think wolf-boy would need to feel a little jealous.”

Amy had to laugh at that as well, “Who knows. He might be – who the hell can ever tell what Oz thinks about?”

“Actually? What goes through his head is a whole lot of Zen crap, according to what Buffy picked up when she was reading minds and shit.” Faith replied. She shrugged, “Doesn't surprise me.”

Amy shrugged back. She had avoided Buffy like the plague during that whole incident, once she'd heard what had happened to the girl from Willow. Knowing what she knew now, Faith got just why the witch had been so insistent on avoiding the other Slayer.

“Suppose so.” Amy gestured back over to the dance floor. “Okay, I'm ready to go again. You?”

“You know I'm always ready.” Faith said with a smirk, getting up from the chair.

**June 24th, 1999  
Restfield Cemetery, Sunnydale**

“Is this guy ever gonna show, or what?” Faith crossed her arms in front of her and leaned against another tombstone, looking over at the grave of one 'Michael Spencerson'. Then the brunette turned her gaze on Willow. “You're sure he got turned?”

“Pretty sure.” Willow confirmed, “The coroner’s report mentioned blood in his mouth.”

“He'll rise.” Buffy said with certainty. “Sometimes these guys just take their own sweet time about it, that's all.”

“Well, I'm kind of hoping he rises pretty soon.” Willow said eagerly. “I'm really looking forward to seeing that fire spell in action.”

“You saw me cast it earlier.” Amy told her fellow witch. “It really won't look any different.” And that was true. After much practice, Amy had managed to get the fire spell working with at least some degree of control. Wasn't really a fireball she could throw from a distance – she had to be within stake range of a vampire for it to burn them, but still, a major step up. But using it in practice wasn't the same as trying it in the real world, under combat conditions.

“No, but still.” Willow insisted, “Now we'll see it work on a vampire. Fire from your hand, poof, dusty vamp.”

“Don't get your hopes up.” Amy warned. “I've never used it under any sort of pressure. You know, like if a vampire is coming straight at me or whatever.”

“So we'll make sure we don't get too close when you start shooting fire.” Faith told her. “At least until we know if the magic works as advertised.” _And if it doesn't, that vamp is dust anyway._

Before any of them could say anything further, the ground in front of Michael Spencerson's tombstone started to move.

At first it was a small, gentle movement, like the outside of an eggshell when the baby bird within starts to poke its way out. But that slight movement only lasted for the briefest of seconds, as a hand broke through the earth, followed by an arm, then another hand, and a head coming through, the newly risen vampire's demonic face on full display.

As the vampire rose up, Willow involuntarily took a step back. Then she took a few more steps back. The first had been startlement – every time she saw a vampire rising out of its grave, it gave her a moment of shock. But she also needed to give Amy room to work.

Faith and Buffy also stepped back, but they weren't startled at all by the vampire's appearance. Certainly not at this point in their lives, after all.

Snarling in hunger and instinctive rage, the vampire kept pulling itself out of the dirt, but also lunged at Amy – who managed to back a pace away from the undead creature.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Amy figured this was as good a time as any for the first test of the spell. Thrusting out her hand towards the vampire, she murmured a word, more to focus her mind and channel her energy than because she actually needed to speak.

“ _Ignis_!” Channeling her magic, the word came out with more force than she actually put into it, and a jet of fire flew out from Amy's hand.

Unfortunately, Amy was forced to sidestep a lightning-quick lunge from the vampire, who was now entirely free of the dirt – and that movement, and the breaking of her focus, left two impacts on the spell. 

One: Her arm moved to the left, and so the fire hit the vampire's shoulder, not his chest, a portion of the flames roaring over and around the impact site. The flames spread, licking at the creature for a few seconds, but not quite igniting enough to dust the vampire.

The mis-aimed blast was made worse by the slight slip in Amy's concentration from evading the lunge – the fire petered out too quickly, leaving a vampire in flames and rapidly becoming badly burned all over one side, but still more than intact enough to try to grab her and start sucking.

Snarling incoherently with pain, rage and hunger, the vampire grabbed Amy's arm. 

“ _Ignis!_ ” Amy shouted this time, all but pressing her hand against the vampire's chest as it moved in for the kill – the fire hit it, and Amy managed to pull away before she got burned herself, the vampire collapsing into dust moments after.

Everyone else looked at Amy and the pile of dust for a moment, the witch breathing heavily – having a vampire grab your arm, getting that close to biting your neck... _Yeah, not an experience I want to repeat._

“Wicked cool, Ames!” Faith said after a moment, smiling at her friend's success – and damn, the way she toasted the vamp, even if it needed two goes, definitely was cool.

“Thanks. Still needs a little work, though.” Amy pointed out, through deep breaths, feeling more than a little dazed and light-headed.

“Yea, but still!” Willow gushed, agreeing with Faith on the 'coolness' factor. “You've got to teach me how to do that!”

“It's really not that-” Amy started, then staggered back, barely staying on her feet. “I think-” She tried to steady herself by grabbing onto a tombstone. “I think I need a minute, here.”

“Amy?” Faith went over to her friend, holding her up.

“I'm good.” Amy held up a hand. “Just a little – just a little light-headed. I think,” She stumbled again, but Faith kept her up. “I think,” she repeated, “that using the spell twice that way is kind of a big no-no for me right now. Or anyone.” She forced herself to take a deep breath. “Yea, more work though.”

“We can work out the problems together.” Willow said, still excited. “Tomorrow?”

“Sounds good, assuming I don't just sleep right through tomorrow.” Amy half-murmured, now feeling drowzy as hell.

**June 27th, 1999  
Crawford Street Mansion, Sunnydale**

When it had been a few days before the full moon at the end of May, Willow – and Oz, to a much less visible degree – had had a small panic attack about what they were going to do, in terms of locking Werewolf Oz up for everyone's safety. Nowadays, the book-cage in the library was all...blown up...

Buffy had provided the solution.

As it turned out, Angel's former residence not only had manacles, but a cage too. Buffy had no idea why Angel had put it in, but he had.

“Are we going to have to come all the way out here three nights a month, once we've started UC Sunnydale?” Willow asked, her usual gushing about college whenever it came up in conversation replaced with concern for her boyfriend, and concern about his lycanthropic nature.

Oz looked out the window, knowing it was almost time to get into the cage, then he glanced back at Willow with a shrug. “Yeah, I guess. Or else we'll find somewhere on campus for it.” 

Willow looked out the window as well – force of habit right before full moons, by now. “I wish we didn't have to do this to you. It's not right to just lock you up, like a...a criminal of some kind!”

“It is what it is.” Oz replied, still calm, his usual unflappable demeanor still dominating his features. “I don't like going in there, Will, we both know that. But I have to. If I don't...” Oz trailed off. He didn't need to say more, and so he didn't. 

“I know, I know, it's just, I mean, I just- I want to be able to do more to help than this. There has to be a way to help you control this, or-or stop it – a spell, or maybe even-” At the small smile on Oz's face, Willow realized she was starting to babble and managed to stop herself. “Sorry, Oz.”

“You don't need to apologize.” Oz was still smiling as before. “And Willow? I understand you want to help...but there isn't always a magic solution to the problem.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “There might be ways I can control this, one day, but there isn't a way around all the work to get there.” He looked back at the window again.

Willow had as well, and she opened the cage door for him. “I know, I know, I just wish...” Willow started, then sighed, frowning. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Oz told her, leaning in for a kiss before going into the cage and letting his girlfriend lock it behind him, then taking off his clothes and waiting for the full moon to unleash the beast within him.

**July 5th, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

Xander still wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life, career-wise, assuming his own desires ever entered into the picture.

But what he was sure about was that being Pizza Delivery Guy for the rest of his days was not it. The job was annoying as hell, to put it mildly, and even after only two weeks in the fast food business – he wanted out, badly.

_On the plus side, at least no vamp has tried to order me in for dinner._ Which was even more surprising, given that as the new guy, he got the evening shift that lasted until eleven. But Xander figured it was only a matter of time, and he always made sure he had a cross – preferably two, one to hold and one around his neck – and a stake on hand all the time.

But, whatever it was that he was going to do long-term, Xander had to have a job now. His mother wasn't charging rent yet, but she would once the summer was over, as per their 'deal' before high school had finished. And Xander had long since learned the value of saving money. Way back when, of course, it had been saving up for his road trip, and now it was saving for much more boring, practical reasons – paying rent, buying food and other necessities, and, faint hope at the end, moving into a place that wasn't his mother's house...but rather his own.

Not that living at his mother's house was that bad, all things said and done...but, still living at your parents' house once high school was over? Hallmark of a guy who'd screwed up and made nothing of his life. Doing it for a while right after graduating Sunnydale High was one thing, at least in Xander's mind, but he didn't want to end up living there for years on end. 

Xander shook his head and put those thoughts out of his mind, going back to his career prospects, such as they were. If he wasn't going to be a pizza-guy, what exactly was there for him to do? 

_I could also try the Ice Cream Truck sales job...or wear one of those stupid sandwich boards to advertise for something._ Neither of those sounded at all appealing, but at least there'd be a few weeks of it not being 'Xander Harris Pizza Delivery Man' to go with.

_I'll have to start looking into other options. Not that he hadn't already._

Life after Graduation was just **wonderful.**

**July 16th, 1999  
Faith's Apartment, Sunnydale**

It was still about an hour before sundown when Faith heard the knock on her door. Which pissed her off, because whoever it was had thrown off her rhythm on the punching bag she'd set up in the 'living room' of her apartment. 

_Well, it's not the bathroom, bedroom or kitchen. So I guess that makes it the living room._

Faith wasn't paying for the place, so she wasn't going to complain too hard about its size. She still thought it was kinda shitty, though, how little the Council was actually willing to pay for this kind of thing, but at least this apartment beat that sleaze-bag motel from last year. 

_On the plus side, much as he likes to pretend, I don't think Wes is doing that well either._ Her Watcher had been flustered and refused to discuss the subject when she'd asked how much the Council paid him, but according to Giles, the Watchers really didn't pay anyone all that much. His “cover” as the High School's Librarian really had been needed to pay the day to day bills.

Wesley was still wearing those damn suits of his after being released from hospital, but by now, Faith had realized he only had the three suits. And probably not much else. She'd never seen the inside of his place, didn't even know where it was – but if it had anything but books and boring décor, she'd eat her stake.

Faith opened the door – and there was Wes. _Speak of the devil, or some shit like that._ He wasn't wearing a cast on his neck anymore – the fracture in his collarbone was completely gone as of ten days ago, but Faith had noticed how careful the guy moved – compared to before, anyway.

It was only after a moment that Faith saw Wesley was carrying a fancy-ass crossbow. Was that a freaking laser-sight on it?

Oooh, yeah, me want. Want. Want. Want.

“Nice toy, Wes. Know how to use it?” Faith still didn't really like the man, but her ribbing and comments were a lot less hostile these days, and Wesley seemed to get that.

“Actually, when it comes to traditional weaponry for this line of work, a crossbow is perhaps the one weapon I'm as effective with as I'd like to think.” Wesley told her, in an unusually casual tone for the man. “But this isn't mine.” He handed the weapon over to Faith, who took it incredulously.

“You got this for me? Why?” She was immediately checking it out, looking through the sight, turning the laser-sight on, pointing it at the punching bag a moment. So enthralled was she with the thing that she barely registered what he'd said in reply.

“Because you're my Slayer. It's my duty to ensure you're as well equipped as possible to face what might come your way. Equipped with the knowledge of _how_ to kill what you go up against, but also, where possible, with the tools necessary for the job. That weapon is one of the best crossbows available on the open market.” Despite the stiffness and formality of the words, Wesley's tone was still more casual than she'd really ever heard from him. “It's also something of a bribe.” He admitted after a moment.

Faith looked up at him, suspicions. “Huh? What, you think I'm gonna be a good little Slayer and listen to you now, just because you're givin' me a cool weapon?”

“Alas, Faith, I truly despair of you ever using the English language properly. Besides, the idea of you being the Council's idea of a 'good little Slayer' doesn't seem even remotely within the realm of possibility.” Wesley told her frankly, “I'll admit I'm still not entirely happy with that reality, but I've also come to see the advantages which your...unique perspective brings to your duty.”

“Wow. Really know how to make a girl feel appreciated.” Faith told him dryly. “So, it's a bribe about...?” Even as she asked, she was pointing the crossbow at her sofa, her finger on the trigger, actually debating if she wanted to test it badly enough to shoot her couch. 

“I'd not pull the trigger just yet, Faith.” Wesley told her.

“The couch isn't exactly the world's greatest to begin with, Wes.” _That and I kind of beat the crap out of it back...well, after Finch._

“It has nothing to do with your choice of target.” Wesley told her, then gestured to a small lever on the crossbow. “The safety is still on.”

“Oh.” Faith lowered the weapon, feeling a little – tiny bit, really – embarrassed at missing something obvious like that. She looked back over at Wes. “Still doesn't answer my question, though. What do you want?”

“Your help, actually.” Wesley told her. “As any Watcher is at the Academy, I was trained in a number of forms of combat with several different weapons. While I'll grant that weapons was not my best subject back then, I was under the impression that I was more than decent in a fight.” 

_Yea, fat chance of that Wes._ Faith suppressed the urge to smirk and poke fun at him verbally over it, because unless she was goin' nuts, Wes was admitting he was _bad_ at something.

_Maybe I am going nuts anyway._

“My experiences in Sunnydale thus far, however,” Wesley continued, “have shown that I am...well...not. If I'd been as good as I believed I was, I wouldn't have been knocked over with a fractured collarbone literally within moments of entering the fight during Graduation.” Wesley looked away a moment, then back at Faith.

Faith wasn't the most empathic of people, and she usually didn't notice or care to notice much about people, especially ones she didn't like. But it was hard not to get that whatever it is Wesley was about to say – had been saying – it definitely wasn't easy for him. For the first time, Faith wondered just why Wesley was such a stuck up priss so often, and why he'd been so arrogantly confident when he'd first showed up in Sunnydale.

She didn't really wonder about it for long – she wasn't going to ask him, after all, and that was the only way she'd be figuring it out.

“In short, Faith,” Wesley continued, “I would like your assistance in correcting my...deficiencies in more practical combat.”

Faith did a double-take at Wesley's words. Looking back over what he'd just said, she realized that of course this was where he'd been going, but damn! She'd never have guessed it.

“You, the Watcher, want me, the Slayer, to teach you how to fight?” Faith barely suppressed a laugh at the idea.

Wesley nodded, “Yes.” he told her, “I'm...aware of the humor inherent in the notion, but despite all the training I undertook in England I quite obviously need to improve, and you are the best choice for doing that.” He gestured inside the room, “Can I come in?”

Faith didn't say anything – unsurprisingly – but she did step aside to let Wesley in, closing the door behind him. She set the crossbow down on the couch, much more carefully than she was with most of her belongings and looked over at her Watcher.

“Okay, here's the deal. I'm not really much of a teacher, Wes. Only way I can think to really show you how to fight outside of, uh, 'controlled circumstances' would be sparring.” Faith had only, since coming to Sunnydale, sparred with Buffy. Mostly because she didn't have to pull her punches anything like she'd have to against anyone else.

She still did, as did Buffy, because hey, it was just sparring, not a real fight, but against Wes -

_Well, I don't_ really _want to break any of his bones._

“And if we spar, then you're not coming out of it without a lot of bruises. No matter how much I pull my punches.” She looked at him carefully. “Unless you get all gussied up like a training dummy, which kinda defeats the whole purpose of becomin' a better fighter. Also, we do this, you're gonna have to wear something _other_ than those damn suits of yours. That isn't an outfit for learning how to fighting in.”

Wesley didn't say anything for a moment, then he nodded, “I suppose that makes sense.” He frowned, “I won't say I'm looking forward to the sparring itself, but if that's what it takes, that's what it takes.”

Faith shrugged, “Alright. Your pain.” She picked up the crossbow. “You say you're good with one of these?” 

“Quite.” Wesley nodded. Faith wasn't sure if she believed him – after all, hadn't he been assuming he'd been good with other weapons too? But there was an easy way to find out, now, wasn't there. 

“You got another one?”

“I do. Much simpler than that one, but adequate for shooting wooden bolts into a vampire's heart, yes.”

“Well, then bring it over later tonight, and I can take this for a test run.” She patted the crossbow, “And we'll see how you really are with one of these.” Mostly, Faith really just wanted to try out the crossbow, but she'd humor Wesley. If he was at least competent with the weapon, maybe there'd be a reason to keep him around after all.

“Where are you planning to patrol, Faith?” Wesley asked.

Calling up a mental map of Sunnydale, Faith made a guess of where she thought Buffy would patrol tonight, and picked a cemetery on the other side of town from there, whose name she told Wesley. No point, unless there was a specific reason, to keep the Slayers together anymore. Upside of there now being two of them in the world at the same time was that they could cover more ground any given night.

“Alright. I'll meet you there. I presume you won't be heading out until sometime around nine, or later?”

Faith shrugged, “Probably closer to ten.”

**July 16th, 1999  
Blessed Memories Cemetery, Sunnydale**

When Faith saw Wesley arrive at the cemetery, she wasn't at all surprised to see that Wesley was still dressed in his suit. Well, okay, he'd lost the jacket at least, which probably counted for something – but that tie was way too much of a useful handhold in a fight. Perfect way for a vampire to pull him in for a bite, or a demon to strangle him with.

_Knew he only had the three suits. Now I'm wondering if he's got anything but them._

“Ditch the tie, Wes.” Faith told him, almost exasperatedly. “Unless you want to give the vamps something easy to grab onto.”

“I-” Wesley started, looking and sounding a little flustered. “Uh, yes, of course. Hadn't thought about that...” Reaching one hand up, Wesley untied his tie and pulled it off his neck, stuffing it into one of his pockets.

“Kinda figured that part.” Faith told him. 

Wesley grabbed his crossbow into both hands, fitting a bolt into the weapon. He didn't raise it up for firing, however, looking around carefully.

“I suppose I'll follow your lead out in the field then, Faith.” Wesley told her. “We're here, so what's the plan? Any risings to expect?”

Faith shrugged, “Doubt it. I called Willow and she said none that she knew about. Doesn't mean there isn't gonna be one, but the way I figure, it's less likely. Doesn't change the fact that I almost always seem to turn up vamps in cemeteries, anyway.” She didn't feel any vamps around either, though that didn't stop her from keeping her eyes open as she picked a random direction and headed off.

Wesley followed behind her, and she winced a little at the noise he was making.

_Okay, so maybe he's not that bad, but bad enough for a vamp to pick him up a whole lot better than they would just me._

Sure enough, after a bit – Faith wasn't sure how long, since she didn't have a watch on her – they came across some vampires. Three in total, chuckling and laughing at each other, acting like a bunch of teenagers or twenty-somethings just hanging...but in a graveyard. Not suspicious at all.

Faith didn't doubt that they'd at least heard Wesley approaching, and sure enough, as they got closer, they headed directly towards him.

Ducking behind a tombstone, Faith leveled her crossbow, not bothering with the laser-sight at this range – much as she wanted to, that'd be a dead giveaway – and readied to fire as the vampires walked towards Wesley, slowly, probably trying to be menacing.

Before Faith could fire her crossbow, though, Wesley had brought his own up and without even bothering to aim (or as far as she could tell, anyway) he'd opened fire at one of the vampires. Right into the heart, dust exploding before any of the others had really noticed what had happened.

“Fuck.” Faith muttered as the two vamps started to snarl and run at Wes. Despite their speed, Faith re-aimed and got the second, dropping the crossbow and pulling her stake to run at the third, given there was no time to reload.

She reached the vamp right as it swept Wesley's legs out from under him with a kick, pulling him away from her Watcher, tossing him back a bit. 

“Slayer!” The vampire snarled angrily at her. 

“Slay-ee!” Faith took a moment to play with it, kicking the vampire in the face when it came at her again, then driving her stake into its chest.

“Smartass bastard.” Faith muttered, ignoring the new pile of dust and turning towards her Watcher. Wesley was already half-up, but she extended a hand anyway, helping him to his feet. “Not bad. Coulda just been luck, though.”

Wesley winced a moment rubbing the back of his head. “I suppose you could think that. It's not true, though. Given enough practice, I don't doubt you'd be even better than myself with a crossbow, but,” he allowed himself a soft smile, “I am quite good at hand-eye coordination.”

“Yeah, well, I'll believe it if you pull a hit like that off again.” Faith told him, smirking. She went back over to the crossbow he'd given her earlier that day and picked it up, loading another bolt into it.

“All right, then I'll just have to provide you a repeat performance.” Wesley said. “And thank you.” He told her more softly.

“Hey, not gonna let a vamp chow down on you, even if you are a giant pain in the ass most of the time.” 

**July 28th, 1999  
Bar, Sunnydale**

Wesley did not often have occasion to spend that much time around Mr. Giles these days. Given that the library was no longer available to serve as a convenient operational center for the Slayers, and given that thus far there had been nothing significant enough to warrant both of them working together – or the two Slayers working together, that much – over the summer, the two Englishmen didn't end up around each other all that often.

For his part, Wesley was under the distinct impression that Mr. Giles still didn't like him, for all that he was less actively hostile about it. While Wesley could form a few theories as to the exact reasons why, he couldn't know for sure without asking the older man, and Wesley was hardly of a mind to do that.

To be honest, Pryce didn't really like Mr. Giles that much in turn. He found the man's fatherly regard for his Slayer somewhat understandable, but also somewhat misplaced, and couldn't grasp why the older Watcher couldn't at least acknowledge the problems such an approach had. His somewhat lackadaisical attitude towards the duty of guiding his Slayer also bothered Wesley immensely.

_Well, I'll grant that I don't exactly do much better at guiding Faith, but at least I'm making an attempt at maintaining a semblance of proper authority there._

Thinking of Faith reminded him of the bruises the Slayer had given him yesterday, and he winced in remembered pain. 

While it was true that he did need to improve his skills in practical combat – his experiences in Sunnydale thus far had drummed much of his former confidence in that regard out of him – much of the reason he'd gone to Faith was out of a hope that such sessions would help him build some sort of rapport with his Slayer. 

So far, he wasn't sure if he'd accomplished anything but acquire a rather impressive collection of bruises.

So yes, he and Mr. Giles rarely interacted these days, but they did once in a while; especially if they both happened to be at this bar at the same time.

It was the only bar either of them ever came to, as it was the only one with tolerable beer; rather than the flavored, colored water the colonials around here seemed to prefer. 

“I hear you gave Faith a rather expensive crossbow.” Giles said, as Wesley sat across the booth from him. It was an unspoken understanding between them – if they were both there, they at least exchanged some words, touched base...at the very least, got a chance to hear the Queen's English spoken properly for once.

“I did.” Wesley raised an eyebrow at Giles' tone, noting the slight note of accusation in his words. “What of it?”

“Well, nothing, except for the fact that I'm quite sure Buffy is rather jealous of Faith and her new toy. At least somewhat, anyway. Now I'm going to have to come up with something to give my Slayer in turn.” Giles seemed to be complaining for complaining's sake, rather than out of any real grievance. He sipped at his beer.

“It wasn't my intention for Buffy to get jealous.” Wesley said truthfully. Indeed, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Though now that it occurred to him, he had to grant it was a nice bonus. “I merely wanted to give Faith a better tool with which to perform her duties.” _And 'expensive' is the better description. Nearly obliterated all my savings. Still, with any luck, it will have been worth it._

“Maybe not, but she is.” Giles told him with just a hint of sourness. “Though I find it oddly timed that you get Faith a crossbow, and your skill with that weapon is also something Faith has mentioned to Buffy more than once. Well, twice in total, according to Buffy. But praise both times. Surprised praise, I'll grant, but praise nonetheless.”

“I mentioned to Faith that I was quite good with a crossbow, when I gave her hers.” Wesley told him calmly. “She didn't believe me. Given my...previous performance, I suppose I can't blame her over-much.” _It was the one subset of my weapons training even Father had nothing bad to say about. Not that he had anything_ good _to say about it, either..._

Wesley suppressed the thoughts of his father's personal disapproval of him. He was a Watcher to a Slayer, and he would serve in that role with distinction, and honor the Wyndam-Pryce name. There was nothing else to think on the matter.

“Yes, well, at least there's something you're good at.” Giles muttered, and Wesley's expression was blank. “I meant other than cross-referencing and translation, of course.” The older man clarified. “Granted, your attitude regarding the Slayers could still do with a great deal of improvement.”

“Well, unlike yourself, I'm not old enough to be my Slayer's father.” Wesley replied coolly. “I am only eleven years her senior, after all. Besides, unlike you, I retain an understanding of the larger picture. I have no intention of sacrificing Faith unnecessarily, but I won't deny that when set against what might be the rest of the world, her life is less important. I'm yet to be convinced that if it came down to the world – or even just large numbers of innocents - or Buffy, you'd actually make the impartial choice.” 

Giles just looked at him. It was out, and there was a chance they might finally have it out now, between them, but Wesley suspected not. Mr. Giles was not likely to indulge in such a discussion here in public.

“Impartial? Try cold-blooded and cowardly. The Slayer is not a disposable weapon, something _I'm_ yet to be convinced that _you_ understand. Every one is an independent young woman, distinct and unique, with worth beyond their status.” Giles's tone was just as cool as Wesley's.

“I never said that wasn't true, Mr. Giles.” Wesley told the older man. “Though if you really are so concerned with Buffy's well-being, shouldn't you be seeking to take a job at UC Sunnydale, given that your Slayer is relocating there?” Wesley honestly couldn't quite understand that part of things. He grasped the 'father-figure' role Giles had to Buffy, indeed, to most of the self-styled 'Scoobies'. 

What he couldn't grasp was why said 'father figure' wouldn't want to work at say, the college's library, rather than 'enjoy' unemployment, with less easy access to his Slayer, and giving his Slayer less easy access to him.

“Wesley, the truth is that I'll be available for Buffy when she needs my help. But she's not a child any longer, and she doesn't need me around every hour of the day the way she did as a high school student. Buffy is more than capable of operating independently and self-reliantly.” 

“I see.” Wesley stood up. “Well, as always Mr. Giles, it has been quite the pleasure. Have a good evening.”

**August 30th, 1999  
The Bronze, Sunnydale**

“So, you lookin' forward to College?” Faith asked Buffy. The two Slayers were the only ones sitting at the moment. Xander and Cordy, plus Willow and Oz were off on the dance floor, and Amy was out of town with her dad visiting her cousins, or something along those lines.

Buffy shrugged, “I suppose. I mean, I am, but just between us, I gotta admit-” She leaned in a little towards Faith, “I haven't even picked out my classes for first semester!”

Faith laughed, “Does Willow know? Nah, stupid question. She'd nagging you about it non-stop, if she did.”

“I haven't told her yet.” Buffy admitted, “Though I was planning to get her help on it.” She shrugged, “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. You know, me doing the whole College Girl thing. How that'll interfere with the Slaying.”

Now it was Faith's turn to shrug, “Way I see it, ain't nothing much gonna change. We keep dividing the town between us on regular nights, and if one of us goes up against something too big to handle solo, we both go for it. When classes start it'll be you taking the side of town closer to campus, right?”

“Yea.” Buffy admitted. “And we can still do coverage like last year, give each-other night's off.” Sooner or later, Buffy would probably need a few, at least until she got a handle on the workload for her classes.

_If I do._

“Pretty much. Though it might be harder to work all this out every day, without the library to meet at.” Faith pointed out.

Buffy nodded, “True. But there's always here, and there's that coffee shop not far from campus as well.” Buffy searched her memory for the name, “Espresso Pump?”

“Suppose that works.” Faith agreed.

“On the other hand...” Buffy frowned, “Not going to be as easy to keep Giles in the loop. Or Wesley,” She added. Her opinion of the younger Englishman had mellowed considerably...the fact that he'd disobeyed (or at least ignored) the Council's orders and told her how to heal Angel...

Okay, so she didn't like the guy, and maybe never would. But Wesley was officially 'okay' now in her book, and from what Faith had told her, he wasn't as bad a Watcher as he'd been before, either. Faith didn't talk about Wesley much, admittedly, but over the past month or so, his name sometimes came up in conversation. Usually in connection with how badly she'd kicked the crap out of him, during their training sessions.

“We'll work something out. Actually, I think Wes is getting a job at the public library.” Faith added, and Buffy frowned at that. She knew why there was an opening for Wesley to take at the library. One of the librarians there had been vamped just a week ago, and Buffy had staked her as she was crawling out of her grave. “So that always works as a place to do the research parties. Well, everyone else, anyway.”

“Better than trying to fit everyone into Giles' place.” Buffy agreed. She'd been there a few times since sophomore year, and the condo wasn't exactly tiny, but the entire group constantly hanging out there? It would be _cramped_ , to say the least.

“We'll work something out.” Faith told her nonchalantly. She stood up. “I'm shakin' my ass on the dance floor, see if I can line up a boy toy or two for the night. You?”

Buffy shook her head, still not over Angel despite him leaving her three months ago, “I'm good here.”

**August 31st, 1999  
17619 White Oak Drive, Sunnydale**

The Iron Coin hadn't given him a thing all summer. Not one single vision of the future. Nothing. Still, Xander had learned his lesson about being lazy with it. So every day, without fail, he flipped it for everyone. He even included Wesley in the circuit now, given that there didn't seem any chance the guy would be heading back to the mother country anytime soon.

And still, nothing.

But for some reason, Xander doubted that would remain true for much longer. Summer was just about over, and it was the nature of the supernatural here in Sunnydale – experience had shown – to be a lot less active during the summertime, for whatever reason.

Besides, Harris doubted the Jester had been lying to him when he'd said that Fate had certain plans, during the guy's previous visit. The Jester was certainly more than able and willing to lie to him, Xander was sure; but he was starting to get a shape of the outlines of an idea of what exactly counted as 'fun' to the Jester, and he didn't think that lying to him about that would quite fit.

Besides, if Fate had nothing planned, then why on earth wouldn't the Jester have taken the coin back? It didn't do him any good, fun-wise, if Xander couldn't use it to change anything...

Xander flipped the coin, “Cordelia Chase.” Zilch. 

“Buffy Summers.” And without warning – he saw the shape of things to come in his mind's eye...

_Buffy, watching something through some sort of window-roof, with...vampires inside? She looked pretty indignant, maybe even angry..._

_Then the glass cracked under her, and Buffy fell through it, landing amidst a group of vamps. A brief cutaway, the exterior of the building – he didn't recognize it..._

Xander shook his head as the vision ended. It didn't have much force to it – by now, he was starting to get the impression that the force behind the vision – just how much it hurt to see it when he flipped the coin – could help him guess just how 'important' it was. This wasn't that bad, thus, almost certainly it wasn't something life-threatening.

_I didn't see Buffy die, so best guess is they aren't planning that._

“What?” Xander murmured to himself, “Do I tell Buffy to not climb on any glass roofs? Not exactly helpful...” 

On the other hand, the building was burned into his memory, like everything he saw with the Iron Coin. So he'd recognize it when he saw it, be able to warn Buffy with some sort of 'I think climbing onto the roof might not be a great idea' hint.

_I guess Fate starts small this year too._

“Faith Lehane.” 

_Faith staking a vampire, an empty warehouse near the docks..._

Again, the vision barely hurt. Almost irrelevant.

He'd barely gotten a look at the vamp, no clue what significance he had, or the warehouse. Just a simple, routine staking. Why was it so important?

_Well, they're deciding to throw me for a mystery-loop. Fun._

“Rupert Giles.” Nothing. “Willow Rosenberg.” More nothing. “Daniel Osbourne.” Still nothing. 

Shrugging, Xander did the full circuit, but the Iron Coin had nothing more to tell him tonight. Still, that wasn't the point. Because as of roughly two minutes ago, the coin was no longer silent.

For all intents and purposes, summer break was over, and a brand new year on the Hellmouth was about to start.


End file.
